


Spirit of the Sea

by Likimeya



Category: Hornblower - Forester
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:43:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likimeya/pseuds/Likimeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a foggy night, help comes to HMS Nonsuch from an unexpected source...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt at fitting a tale of the klabauterman, the ship's kobold of the Baltic Sea, into the Hornblower universe. (Actually, given that Hornblower spent several months in the Baltic, it seems improbable that he should not have encountered one!)

The Baltic was black as tar and there were no northern lights tonight to illuminate the water and charm the soul. The gentle waves were hardly disturbed by HMS _Nonsuch's_ slow and cautious passage through it before the persistent, but light westerly wind. The water was almost freezing, even out here on the open sea, chilled by melted ice from northern coastal regions. The air was an imperceptibly few degrees warmer than the icy water, and an almost supernaturally thick fog was rising from the sea, shrouding everything in a ghostly cloak until the watch on the quarterdeck could not even make out the foremast anymore.

They had lost sight of the _Lotus_, the next ship in the chain they had spanned between the Swedish coast and the island of Rügen, an hour ago. They didn't know which of them had sailed off course, but one thing was for certain: in trying to find the other ship again in the rising mist and falling darkness, the _Nonsuch_ had become utterly lost. In the first confusion they had neglected to measure their speed, and with the force of wind so hard to tell, with no stars and no sail to be seen through the fog, it was impossible to tell how far they had strayed from their original position in the line.

The fog was paralysing all life on board the _Nonsuch_. It frightened the hands and disheartened the officers on the quarterdeck. It found its way through seams and gaps in their greatcoats, crept down collars and up sleeves with clammy feet to finally wrap its chilling hands around their hearts. To the commodore it felt as if what little hope and optimism there had still been in it had been sucked out by the cloying dampness. Hornblower was standing stock-still on his quarterdeck, brooding upon their current predicament

He had failed. In the most important position he had ever held, he had blundered like never before. His incompetence had finally been revealed for the world to see, now that he was in so high a command that not a soul in England would remain ignorant of his disgrace. He loathed himself with special fervour tonight for his negligence and uselessness. And he resented his ship's captain, technically in charge of all nautical issues, for having made it obvious.  
It was hardly rational, he knew, to blame Bush for something he himself, the senior one of them, had not been able to prevent from happening. But he desperately needed a vent for his helpless frustration. He wished that Bush would say something – anything – to him, so that he could make a tart reply. But Bush knew better by now than to talk to Hornblower when he was ominously not walking on his quarterdeck.

Depressed and furious at the same time, Hornblower stared into the night. If their current course didn't take them in sight of a sail within the next ten minutes, they would have to give new orders. What course should they set next? Hornblower couldn't think. The fog made it impossible. It seemed to have swallowed the whole world and left only numbing, thought-stilling nothingness in its place. He could see nothing, smell nothing, hear nothing –

– or not? For a moment, just now, he thought he had heard a noise, a strange sound that had somehow seemed out of place on this ship, during this crisis. He cocked his head and listened – and there it was again, a very strange noise indeed, coming from nowhere in particular. It was growing louder, too, and now he thought he recognised it – but surely it couldn't be? It sounded like the fragile whisper of a lone violin playing a nightly concert to the sea. Yes, it had grown a little louder still and it was unmistakably a violin.

It was a melancholy tune it played, but it didn't speak of hopelessness. It made the foggy darkness, which had felt hostile and suffocating only moments before, seem serene and peaceful. Hornblower thought he even knew the melody, but try as he might, he could not remember the occasion on which he had heard it before. In fact, it was most peculiar that it should sound even vaguely familiar to _him_, who never recognised a tune, who could not tell a lullaby from a funeral dirge. And yet… this music he certainly knew. And it warmed his heart to hear it here in the middle of this particularly frustrating nowhere.

The rapture on his face that he didn't bother to hide tricked Bush into asking a question. "Sir? Can you see something, sir?"

"Don't you hear it, captain Bush?"

"Hear what, sir?"

"The Music, man, the music!"

"Music!" Bush gaped openly at him in his surprise, and who could blame him? Hornblower talking about music in a dreamy voice and with a stupidly blissful smile on his face was a sight Bush had certainly never expected to see as long as the rivers ran downhill.

Apparently Bush didn't hear anything. But Hornblower was not imagining it. There it was, coming from behind the wheel. No! Now it was coming from the main mast. He whirled around. Where was its source? Hiding under deck? No, but now he heard it coming from the direction of the mizzenmast. He raced after it in a merry zigzag chase, from starboard to larboard and back again, not caring how ridiculous he might look to the astonished crew. He had to find the source of that – was he really thinking this? – heavenly music!

The invisible violin came to a stop at last where he couldn't reach it; it seemed to hover in the air a yard away from the ship two points off the starboard bow. Hornblower almost fell over the rail, so far did he lean out towards the music. He did not know what he expected to see, but all the same he gazed out into the darkness with all his might. There! Had he seen something on the water there? The fog had cleared for just a second and he thought he had glimpsed a pale shape floating on the waves. It was obscured from view again now.

He was on the verge of turning away in disappointment when a breeze blew away the mist for a moment and revealed to him a bone-chilling sight: a wave breaking on a rock, and beyond that, a rough coast whose shallow waters were covered with ice that was rocking on the waves in millions of sharp-edges sheets.

Dear God, they must have drifted all the way to what had to be the Danish coast and were blindly sailing along among shoals and rocks in a partly frozen sea. For a terrible, drawn-out moment, Hornblower could only stare in horror at what looked like certain disaster. It was Bush calling out to him that brought him to life again.

"Land ahead!" he shouted. "Rocks and ice two points off the starboard bow! We're running collision course!" Not waiting for Bush to react he addressed the sailing master himself. "Lively, Mr Ricks! Bring her around, hard to larboard!"*)   
By then Bush had realised the danger and was nor taking things in his own hands. Soon all hell broke out on deck as Bush and his officers had the ship turned due south away from disaster.

The whole process took only minutes, but it felt like an hour to Hornblower, who had been holding his breath and gripping the rail with frozen fingers all the while. Only when they were a safe half-mile away from the coast did he allow himself to breath freely again.   
He retired, staggering, back to the quarterdeck where he met Bush, who looked exactly as Hornblower felt, the very picture of embarrassment and guilt and dejection. Hornblower was momentarily tempted to say a consoling word, to remind Bush that he himself was just as much to blame for their predicament. But of course it was an impossibility that he should own up to failure in front of Bush. Anyway, he suspected it would hardly seem a redeeming factor to Bush that somebody else had been just as unprofessional as he himself.

So there they were, standing stupidly side by side on the quarterdeck, both still without the faintest idea of how far to the north or south they had come in this blasted fog and how they were going to find their station and the rest of the fleet again – and preferably before any of the other ships noticed their absence.

"Any advice, sir?" Bush asked forlornly.  
"Ha-h'm", Hornblower said.  
He was playing for time. They would have to make a decision soon, but to what end? He was utterly out of his faculties and he could feel despair beginning to constrict his throat.

But then something suddenly pricked his ears.

"Sir –", Bush began.

"Shhhh!" Hornblower was all concentration as he listened to the night. Yes, there it was again, that impossible, beautiful music, coming right from the bow this time. He stood and listened, forgetful of everything else.

"I can hear it, too", Bush said after a while, and there was the same entranced wonder in his eyes that Hornblower was sure was written all over his own face. Was it real, then? Or did Bush only profess to hear it because he wished to be tactful?  
But Bush was proved sincere when, the next second, he and Hornblower turned simultaneously around as the hidden source of the sound suddenly changed its position with lightning speed to the larboard side. They stared together into the darkness for a minute, the same thought forming in their minds.

"That's where we're going. East by south-east", murmured Bush.  
Hornblower nodded, breathless.

They had to wait only a few minutes after the new course was set, before they heard the anxiously longed-for _Sail ahoy!_ from the lookout on the main mast. The fog was clearing and as the last shrouds of mist were blown away by the freshening wind, they could make out first the shining white canvas of the Lotus' sails and then the light of the lanterns in the festively illuminated officers' mess. The invisible violin was playing a merry finale and then stopped for good.

* * *

All went back to normal soon on the _Nonsuch_, and no more mysterious violins were to be heard. Their former position resumed, they were in for quiet night, although Bush would take care that their exact position was known at all times. It was still early and Hornblower had an appointment with his interpreter. Braun was going to teach him the correct pronunciation of the most important towns' names; Hornblower was frustrated and embarrassed by his deficiencies in that matter.

They were sitting in his cabin and Hornblower was studying his map and choosing the next town, when Bush happened to pass overhead on the quarterdeck. The loud thud when his wooden leg hit the floor made Hornblower flinch. He still hadn't gotten used to the sound. Braun noticed and gave him a sympathetic smile that made Hornblower scowl.

"The first couple of times it woke me up at night", Braun said, "I thought we had a klabauterman on board".

"Pardon, Mr Braun – a what!?"

"A klaubauterman, sir. A friendly kobold that haunts these waters and makes weird noises on the ship in which he settles – _clank-clank_, _hammer-hammer_, like that. But don't let that fool you, sir. He doesn't come aboard to wreak havoc, not at all. It is his first duty to protect his ship from all nautical perils, and when he has made his home in one, he stays with her loyally until the very end. He keeps his ship safe. He helps sailors on nights like this."

Hornblower was unsure whether the man was joking or being serious. Either way, he was not amused. If rumours of spirits haunting these unfamiliar wintry waters spread among the hands, there would be serious trouble. The superstitious folk would never believe in a good-natured disposition in any kobold, and nothing was more useless than a crew of frightened sailors who believed their ship to be haunted by invisible demons.

"Mister Braun, tales like that are better told when safely at shore and in a cosy port town inn, but not at high sea, and in strange waters at that. I hereby expressly forbid you to spread that tale among the crew, do you hear me!"

Braun raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Rest assured, Sir, that I have no intention of frightening your crew with silly fairy stories. "Anyway", he added, grinning mischievously, "if any klabautermen had come aboard, they would certainly have been noticed by now - because of the wonderful music they're always making!"

Hornblower could only stare at him dumbfounded.

Braun tactfully dismissed himself a few minutes later, when it became clear that Hornblower would not be able to pronounce his own name correctly tonight, much less that of some queer Baltic islands. He was left to stare at the wall of his cabin and try to make sense of what had transpired that night. Kobolds and magic aid to a ship in distress, was that what had happened? Hornblower snorted. He prided himself on being a rational and level-headed person. He frowned upon all superstitions as symptoms of bad education that were a constant source of irritation to naval officers.

But on an eerie night like this he was not so convinced of what he believed and what he could rightly dismiss as yarn. After all, what better explanation than supernatural help was there for their miraculous escape from ruin? And if nothing else, the fact that he had been enchanted by something as tiresome as a mere piece of music ordinarily was to him, certainly proved that magic had indeed been wrought.

And if he was honest, the concept of the eternally loyal – what was the name, klabauterman? – was just too appealing for him not to believe in it. For the first time in a very long while, he felt that he was not alone responsible for the life and happiness of every soul on board the ship he sailed. There was somebody other than him who was watching over them all. Somebody competent who would take care of _him_ and whose aid it would not be shameful to accept. It was marvellous to feel at least a little portion of the weight he had been carrying all alone for so long lift from his shoulders.   
Of course the kobold, if there was one, would stay on with the _Nonsuch_ when Hornblower left the ship, but even that thought didn't dampen his spirits. It was comforting to know that somebody would be taking care of his cherished Bush when Hornblower himself was not there to do it anymore.

That night he slept peacefully for the first time in maybe as long as two decades, and the giddy smile he wore when he fell asleep stayed on his face all night.

***

His exuberant mood still persisted when he stepped onto the quarterdeck the next morning and found the captain already standing there enjoying the clear view at the sunrise. Bush greeted him with apprehension written all over his lined face, presumably because he still felt guilty for having caused his commodore distress by not living up to his expectations. But Hornblower would have none of that this morning.

"Morning, William! I trust you slept well?"

"Morning, Sir! Well..."   
Just then the officer of the watch happened to pass by and Bush called him over.  
"Mr Somers, I was kept awake last night by the most peculiar sounds coming from below my cabin. It sounded like somebody was hammering and clanking down there in the – I guess it is the sick room? Can you tell me what was going on there, what madman got it in his head to labour in the sick room in the middle of the night?"

"Why, no, sir…!" The young midshipman was clearly at a loss about how to react to this strange question of his captain's.

"Pray find out what it was, Mr Somers. It sounded rather sinister, like canon balls being thrown around. I won't tolerate anything disturbing our precious sleep or, heaven forbid, endangering the ship!"

Hornblower had been gazing out to sea during the exchange, trying his best to look serious, but unable to prevent a merry grin from spreading all over his face. "Don't fret, Captain Bush", he said when Somers had hurried away. "I have a feeling you won't have to worry about the ship's safety for a very long time."

**Author's Note:**

> A note on the climate: In the book, there is no mention of ice in the Baltic when they first arrive there, but I don't think it's so very improbable that even the southern coastal regions were still covered with ice in May. This year even the southern, German coast of the Baltic has been frozen until the middle of March, and back then it was the Little Ice Age...


End file.
